


Kink for Love

by Nanashi Jones (miaoujones)



Category: Ouran High School Host Club
Genre: Cock Rings, Dry Orgasm, Fingerfucking, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Oral Sex, Sex Club
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-18
Updated: 2006-10-18
Packaged: 2017-12-19 05:06:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/879799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miaoujones/pseuds/Nanashi%20Jones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kyouya sees Tamaki as soon as he enters the side room: blindfolded, on his knees, hands clasped at the small of his back, his mouth filled with the man standing before him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kink for Love

As the bouncer steps aside, Kyouya enters the club and goes straight to the main room, making his way to the corner bar. He orders a vodka tonic with a twist of lime and leans back against the bar. He has learned that his trademark glare only seems to invite attention so Kyouya masks his face, making himself blank, invisible as he takes in the theatrics, cataloguing acts, behaviors, costuming, fetishes, what snippets of dialogue he can hear. It's quite a show, really.

"He's here tonight." Kyouya turns to see that the bartender from the other end has come to his side. "The guy from your photograph," the bartender repeats, and Kyouya remembers him now, "he's here tonight."

"Where?"

"Second side room on the left."

Kyouya thanks him, downs the rest of his drink and skirts the wall until he reaches the second doorway. There is, he notes, a third room and he wonders if a conscious choice to avoid it had been made.

He sees Tamaki as soon as he enters the second side room, and automatically slides into the shadows along the wall. But it doesn't matter, he realizes even as he conceals himself in the dark: Tamaki is blindfolded. On his knees, hands clasped at the small of his back, his mouth filled with the cock of the man standing before him.

Even though it's not necessary, Kyouya continues standing in the shadows. The black silk shirt Tamaki is wearing is completely undone, the tails pushed back at his hips, exposing the low sit of his leather trousers, his torso fully exposed as well. The shirt slips off his shoulder but he makes no move to adjust it while he's sucking.

After Tamaki brings the man he's with to orgasm, the man says something Kyouya can't hear but which he takes to be words of thanks; Tamaki beams up in reply and Kyouya reads the words "my pleasure" on his lips. Without removing his blindfold, Tamaki turns to the items on the tray beside him. The fingers of one hand find the cloth, the other hand guides it to ceramic bowl to dampen it. Tamaki sits back on his heels as he wipes his face, refreshes himself from a bottle of water, and takes a moment for rest.

When he kneels up, hands clasped behind him once more, one of the men who has been sitting and watching gets up and goes to stand before him. There is a small exchange during which Tamaki unclasps his hands to tap himself twice on the shoulder. Then the man undoes himself, guides his cock to Tamaki's lips and Tamaki opens to receive him.

There is a third man, and a fourth. Kyouya remains in the shadows, studying the interactions, the play of roles, the variations from man to man, the techniques Tamaki appears to be using. He observes how, whether or not they have greeted him at the start, the men all thank Tamaki with words or touches at the end. He observes how it makes Tamaki smile. He observes how gracious and sincere Tamaki is as he greets each man and sends him on his way. It would be easy to think that these are social skills Tamaki honed at the host club they founded in high school. Too easy to think so, because Tamaki genuinely loved that club and what they did there; and Kyouya suspects Tamaki is deriving genuine pleasure and joy from this as well, if Tamaki's expression is anything to go by. Which, Kyouya thinks, it is.

Kyouya has watched Tamaki bring a half dozen men to orgasm when a voice at his shoulder says, "If you want a turn, sweetheart, he's yours. You're ahead of everyone else here. Don't be shy."

Kyouya doesn't bother to look at the person who spoke to him. Eyes on Tamaki and only Tamaki, he takes a step from the shadows.

Sensing someone standing before him, Tamaki turns his face up and smiles as he greets Kyouya with a warm, "Good evening, Sir." Smile unwavering despite Kyouya's lack of reply, Tamaki goes on, "Shall I undo you, or will you do it yourself?" This time Kyouya knows a reply is required, but he isn't sure how to make one. "You don't have to speak, if you prefer not to," Tamaki smoothes over the silence. "Just touch my shoulder if you'd like me to undo you; touch my head when you're ready to begin. If you wish to stop at any point for any reason, just tap my shoulder twice, like this." Tamaki demonstrates, then puts his hand behind him again." Now that Kyouya knows what the tapping is about, he reflects that he didn't see any of the men use it. "The only thing I ask of you is to respect my preference not to engage in comeplay." Tamaki smiles again, and Kyouya wonders how many men have found it impossible to respect those wishes. "Shall we begin?"

Curious about the experience of the full treatment, Kyouya touches Tamaki's shoulder once, lightly. Tamaki brings his hands from his behind his back to Kyouya's outer thighs. His fingertips slide up, feeling his way slowly but not tentatively, going under Kyouya's jacket to his waistband, following the belt around front to the buckle. He undoes the buckle and the fly of Kyouya's trousers with a blind dexterity that can only come from practice; Kyouya has a moment to wonder if Tamaki practiced on mannequins or just gained experience as he went along, another moment to wonder how much of the practices and rituals developed through foresight or trial and error.

And then he isn't thinking anything, at least not in words, because Tamaki's fingers are on him: his cock is in Tamaki's hand, he can feel Tamaki's breath on him. Mere inches from his cock, Tamaki's mouth is smiling up at him. The instructions for this play come to Kyouya now, and he touches Tamaki's head.

Tamaki moves forward but doesn't take Kyouya into his mouth right away. Instead, he slides his cheek along Kyouya's cock until he reaches the base; then, with a slight twist, he nudges under, tongue reaching for Kyouya's scrotum. He licks, licks, closer now, lips touching and sliding open over the skin, tongue reaching again, supporting the sac as he sucks it into his mouth; Kyouya gives in to the hot shiver twisting out from his groin.

"Hold it for me," Tamaki murmurs up to him, and Kyouya obligingly holds his cock at the base. He feels breath and a tease of lips as Tamaki bends to lave attention on the other side. Then Tamaki moves back. Lacking instruction and knowing it can't be over so soon, Kyouya remains standing with his cock in his hand.

After a sweetly tormenting moment, Tamaki leans forward again. Kyouya's cockhead catches at the corner of his open mouth, and Tamaki makes the adjustment, turning just enough to close his lips over the head, tongue tip softly flicking. He moves forward, taking in more of Kyouya's cock, sliding down until his lips touch the side of Kyouya's fist at the base. Kyouya slips his hand away from the incidental kiss, and Tamaki takes in the remaining inches, Kyouya's cock fully engulfed, the head nestled in his throat. When he swallows and swallows again in quick succession around Kyouya, a jolt shoots up through Kyouya, curving his spine concave, taking the form of a low moan as it emits from his own throat.

To his surprise, Tamaki doesn't keep him there but releases Kyouya back into his mouth, adjusting so that Kyouya's cockhead is pressing against the wet, so soft skin of the inner wall of his cheek. Kyouya holds himself steady at the base of his cock again as Tamaki slides the inside of his mouth against Kyouya, his tongue licking and pressing against the other side to keep Kyouya surrounded by soft, strong, wet heat. Curses of praise scrabble through Kyouya's mind, but he holds his tongue firmly in his own mouth, allowing only inarticulate pleasure to escape his lips. When Tamaki shifts Kyouya back to the center of his mouth, sucking and suckling full on, his tongue stroking in urgent supplication, Kyouya fists his hair and then lets go of it, surrenders himself inside out, spilling into Tamaki's mouth. Tamaki holds him gently, his tongue encouraging and then cradling as he swallows.

When Tamaki releases him, Kyouya sinks to his knees. "Is it allowed to kiss?" he murmurs.

The smile freezes and cracks as Tamaki's mouth comes open. "Kyouya?" he whispers.

"Yes."

Tamaki doesn't move for a moment. Doesn't seem to be breathing, and Kyouya isn't sure if he himself is breathing.

Then: "Yes," Tamaki says, and Kyouya touches his mouth to Tamaki's. He feels evidence of Tamaki's breath, tastes it, tastes himself too. He had meant only to kiss with his lips, but finds his tongue investigating the tastes; finds himself investigated as well.

"Is it allowed to touch?" he asks when the kiss ends.

In answer, Tamaki brings his hands from behind his back to settle at Kyouya's hips.

"I meant for me to touch you," Kyouya says, a smile coming to his lips unbidden.

"Oh." Tamaki colors slightly and smiles himself. "Yes."

Kyouya reaches for his cock through the soft leather, and is surprised at the way Tamaki startles to the touch. "Ah, I apologize for not making myself clear," Kyouya says, bringing his hand back to himself. "You haven't come yet this evening, at least not in the time I've been here." Then realization dawns: "Is that part of it? Have I trespassed on a particular pleasure of yours?"

Tamaki doesn't respond, except with a fine trembling and a deepened color in his face. "I want you to touch me, Kyouya," he says at last and Kyouya feels a flush of heat himself at his name on Tamaki's lips. "Will you come to a private room with me?"

His awareness of their audience renewed, Kyouya says, "Of course." As they get to their feet, Tamaki removes his blindfold, blinks and focuses, and then they're looking at each other. Looking into each other's eyes, and smiling; Kyouya doesn't know which of them started the smiling but they're standing in the middle of an exclusive Tokyo sex club, looking at each other and smiling, and Kyouya can't help it: he laughs. And at the tail end of his laughter, just before it disappears entirely, he shares it in another kiss with Tamaki.

Tamaki leads them to a small private room. "Do you still want me to get you off?" Kyouya asks as Tamaki locks the door behind them.

"Yes," Tamaki smiles.

Kyouya takes a seat on the sofa; the butter softness of the leather upholstery nearly makes up for the ludicrous width. "How would you like it?"

"With your hand," Tamaki says. Moistens his lips and requests, "May I sit in your lap?"

Kyouya puts his knees together and pats his thigh. Tamaki smiles again. He undoes his trousers and pulls them halfway down his thighs: he isn't wearing underwear, but he is wearing a cock ring. He starts to undo it but Kyouya says, "Wait." When Tamaki looks up, Kyouya asks, "Can you come with that on?"

"Yes," Tamaki says. "It just delays orgasm, it doesn't necessarily prevent it."

"I'd like to try to make you come while you're wearing it, then," Kyouya says.

Tamaki smiles. "All right," he says, sitting himself sideways across Kyouya's lap.

Kyouya begins by examining the device, the collection of straps, the way they connect and bind, the fit of them, the feel of them. When he allows his fingers to drift off and brush Tamaki's skin, he looks up at Tamaki's face: Tamaki's eyes are closed, his mouth open, his face flushed beautifully if not as darkly as his cock is. Elsewhere his skin is even more pale than usual, his blood rushed to concentrate in his face and cock. The contrast, like the blush itself, is beautiful.

Now Kyouya explores the way the cock ring separates and defines the scrotum. He palms the balls, together and in turn; he feels the vibrations of the body in his lap, hears the soft choking sigh, looks up into Tamaki's face again, noting with a smile the pleasure flickering across it. He keeps his eyes on Tamaki's face as his fingers tease the length of the cock, up to the tip, back down. When Tamaki brings up a hand to mouth his own finger, Kyouya wraps around him and begins to stroke in earnest. Breathing heavy sighs and low, light moans, Tamaki reaches for support, his hand finding the back of the sofa, Kyouya offering more support with his other hand at Tamaki's back as Tamaki squirms in his lap. Kyouya has a flash of selfish delight that Tamaki suggested a private room; he doesn't want to share this gorgeosity with anyone else.

As Kyouya is playing with Tamaki's sac again, nudging behind it, smiling as Tamaki arches in his lap, Tamaki drops his finger from his mouth to say, "Kyouya." He opens his eyes and finds Kyouya's. "Would you." He stops, arches and swallows, licks his lip.

"Tell me," Kyouya says, locking him in the gaze. "Ask me."

"Would you," Tamaki breathes, "finger me a little?"

In answer, Kyouya brings his hand to Tamaki's mouth and lets Tamaki suckle his index finger. Then he reaches down again, between Tamaki's legs, nudges behind his balls, rubs in circles and Tamaki spreads his legs, one thigh sliding off Kyouya's lap, wide open now and Kyouya presses in. "Like this?"

"Yes," Tamaki sighs. "Oh," he moans, "yes, ohh, oh yes ~"

With Tamaki half out of his lap, their current position seems less than desirable. "Come here," Kyouya says as he withdraws his finger, Tamaki shuddering lightly in protest of the loss. Kyouya shifts him so that Tamaki is straddling his lap, facing him. Then Kyouya sits back, bringing Tamaki with him so Tamaki can brace and raise up on the sofa.

Hesitant about offering the finger that has been inside Tamaki to Tamaki's mouth, Kyouya folds down the finger he's been using and offers Tamaki his middle and ring fingers. When Tamaki has slicked him up, Kyouya resumes fingering him. Feeling a strain woven into the trembling suffusing the body in his lap, Kyouya realizes Tamaki is forcing himself still. Perhaps awaiting permission or command; Kyouya isn't entirely sure of the rules of engagement yet. "You can move, if you want," he says. Tamaki rolls his hips in response, starts fucking himself on Kyouya's fingers, head fallen back in a graceful arch, sustaining the elegance of the arch by bracing himself with both hands on the back of the sofa past Kyouya's shoulders. Kyouya brushes the pad of his thumb over Tamaki's cockhead and Tamaki moans; Kyouya smiles, starts up a rhythm in counterpoint to the rocking of Tamaki's hips. Kyouya feels Tamaki's hand nudge his away insistently, and he yields just before Tamaki comes in his own hand with a soft cry.

Not a drop spills on Kyouya as Tamaki comes, or when he gets up after. Kyouya realizes Tamaki has done this before. And Tamaki is, as expected, very good at it all.

Tamaki offers drinks and Kyouya accepts. He watches Tamaki select a bottle of French vodka. "I was surprised to see you here," Tamaki says.

"In a place like this?"

"That, too," Tamaki acknowledges. "But I thought you had a board meeting this evening."

"It was cancelled," Kyouya says. He keeps quiet about all his engagements being cancelled since last Sunday. "Is this strange for you?" he asks.

Tamaki glances over as he pours the Grey Goose. "What, having you here?"

Kyouya nods. "Being with me like this."

Tamaki drops a lime wedge into the glass. "Is it strange for you?" he counters.

"I knew it was you from the start, though," Kyouya says.

Still playing the question-dodging game, Tamaki brings the drinks over. "Yes, that brings up an interesting question," he says as he hands Kyouya one of the glasses and sits beside him. "Did you know you were going to see me or is this a coincidence?"

"It's not a coincidence," Kyouya confirms. "Ranka told me he saw you here last weekend."

Tamaki pales. "He didn't tell Haruhi, did he? It's not that I'm ashamed, it's just that I don't want to explain..."

Kyouya saves him from any ending the sentence might or might not have. "I believe Ranka told no one other than me."

Tamaki nods; and then, with a slight rising panic, he asks, "Did I—I didn't. Service Ranka. Did I?"

"No." Kyouya can't help the quirk of a smile as he assures Tamaki, "He only saw you."

Tamaki nods and relaxes again. Sitting sideways on the sofa to face Kyouya, he says, "I suppose you're wondering what I'm doing here."

"You don't have to explain anything."

"I think I want to, to you," Tamaki says. Kyouya remains quiet to let Tamaki organize his thoughts into words. Tamaki shifts forward again as he begins to talk it out. "It started with our Host Club, I think," he says at last. "I loved everything about it. Not just our friends and the adventures we had. I loved the Club itself. I loved the girls who came. I truly enjoyed the pleasure they got from it. I would have done it for free," he slides a sidelong grin at Kyouya, "if certain parties would not have objected strenuously and likely vetoed me."

Kyouya acknowledges the grin with a nod, the corners of his own mouth upturned ever so slightly. Tamaki continues, "It was at university that I started to expand and explore and experiment with definitions of pleasure. Eventually, I had the epiphany that my real pleasure is in the giving of pleasure. It seems very 'vanilla', I know." He glances again to be sure Kyouya understands the term. "Especially compared to the kinds of things you'll see here. But that's my kink: making people happy," he says, quiet but unabashed. "Making people feel good." He turns to face Kyouya fully again. "Did I make you feel good?"

"You know you did." Kyouya smiles indulgently. "You tasted the evidence of my pleasure." Tamaki blushes and drops his gaze. Kyouya nudges his chin up. "It felt better than good," he tells Tamaki seriously. "It felt." He pauses to smile without edge this time, runs his thumb along Tamaki's lower lip and smiles softer as the tip of Tamaki's thumb brushes against his skin. "It felt almost right."

Tamaki's teeth close around his thumb, holding gently and letting go easily when Kyouya withdraws. "Only almost?" Tamaki grins.

Allowing the quirk of his mouth again, Kyouya looks down as he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a single extended finger, then meets Tamaki's gaze. "I would have preferred to see your eyes." His finger moves to Tamaki, brushing back the strands of hair that have fallen with studied casualness into his face. "Like this."

Kyouya looks at the colors shifting in Tamaki's eyes, like depths of the ocean, only violet. He knows they're vanity contact lenses but this vanity looks good on Tamaki, always has; and the shimmer and shine come from beneath the lenses, anyhow.

"I can keep my eyes open this time," Tamaki finally says.

"If you don't mind," Kyouya says, "I'd like to do something else."

Tamaki smiles. "What would you like?"

"I'd like to leave it up to you." Kyouya gazes steadily. "Anything you want."

Tamaki contemplates the offer, contemplates Kyouya's face. "Can I do what you were just doing to me?" he asks.

"With the cock ring on?"

Tamaki shakes his head. "Just with my fingers."

With a nod, Kyouya consents. They undress and Tamaki spreads a sheet out over the sofa. As Kyouya lies down with Tamaki kneeling between his legs, he gains a new appreciation for the width of the sofa. Tamaki coats his fingers with the lubricant he fetched along with the sheet. Fingers glistening, he looks at Kyouya. "Do you want this, Kyouya? I mean, is this something you actually want or are you caught up in the evening?"

Kyouya returns the gaze. "Does it matter?"

Tamaki nods seriously. "Very much so. I don't want you to do anything you'll regret. I don't want to do anything that will hurt you in any way, or come between us."

They hold each other's gaze. "No regrets," Kyouya promises.

Tamaki nods. Touches him. Opens and stretches him, two fingers inside, caressing slickly. He brushes against Kyouya's prostate, causing him to arch off the sofa. Tamaki smiles, brushes over it again, deliberately this time. He concentrates all touch on the nerve endings there, stroking and massaging. Kyouya is concentrated there too; even as he stretches out and rubs against the sofa, his entire body is concentrated there—and then he feels like he is being flipped inside out, all the concentration turning inside out and expanding, a complete rush of sensation—

Tamaki is still inside him. Still and quiet. Kyouya looks down at where Tamaki's hand disappears from sight, fingers disappearing into his body. He looks down at himself, and sees that he hasn't come. "But," he muses aloud, "it felt like orgasm."

Tamaki smiles. "It's called a dry orgasm."

Kyouya recognizes the term. He should have guessed that Tamaki would be knowledgeable in tantric sexual techniques. "You've done this before."

Tamaki acknowledges it with another smile and a nod. "Did you like it?"

"Mmm."

Tamaki smiles again before getting up and going to the mini-bar again.

"Is there anything you haven't done?" Kyouya asks, sitting up to accept the bottle of water Tamaki hands him.

Tamaki gives the question thought. "I haven't tried S&M," he says. "I know it gives people something they need, I know there is a deep pleasure from both sides of it, but I don't seem able to bring myself to inflict or receive pain even knowing that." He takes a sip from his own bottle. "I like some dominance/submission play, though. And who doesn't like a little bondage?" He flashes a wide-open, honest grin.

Kyouya takes a sip of his drink. "Is there anything you haven't done that you've wanted to?"

"Oh." Tamaki toys with the mouth of his bottle. "Is that what you meant before?"

Kyouya nods, brushes back the hair that has insisted on falling into Tamaki's face again. He keeps stroking Tamaki's hair, keeps looking into his eyes.

"Oh," Tamaki says again. He drops his gaze, only to look up again, almost heartbreakingly open. "I've never been in love. I've never been like this with someone I was in love with."

Kyouya continues stroking his hair as he continues looking into Tamaki. "Would you like to be in love with me?"

Tamaki nods, heart unprotected in his eyes and his smile.

"And shall I be in love with you as well?"

Tamaki's smile softens and brightens, his mouth opening to say yes, his open mouth touching Kyouya's.

In the cab to Kyouya's, they pass a trattoria that is newly opened within the month. Tamaki has been twice already; the family that owns it is from Italy, the outskirts of Naples, and everything is authentically Neopolitan, from the pasta and spices to the wine casks hung from the ceiling to the tiles you walk on to get to your table. Kyouya hasn't been yet but agrees to dinner there the following week. The hand that Tamaki is not using to express his admiration for the cannoli rests on the seat between them; it curls warmly around Kyouya's when Kyouya touches it.

Kyouya takes Tamaki to his bed. He lies with Tamaki, above him, inside him. Moves inside him with slow nudging strokes, their fingers interlaced, Tamaki's legs wrapped around Kyouya's waist, his cock pressed between them. "Come," Kyouya urges, deliberating rubbing Tamaki's cock with his body. "Come for me. Come for me, Tamaki."

Tamaki vibrates, breathes vibrations. "I like to wait for my partner," he says. "I don't know if I can go first..."

Keeping their fingers interlaced but lifting his hand enough to stroke his thumb across Tamaki's palm in rhythm with the strokes of his cock inside Tamaki's body, Kyouya murmurs, "Can you imagine the pleasure it would give me to be the one you come first for?" His words have only just left him when Tamaki orgasms around and beneath him. Knowing that Tamaki did this for him, came for him essentially on request, gives Kyouya the sharpest, sweetest spike of thrill; and it's not long before he comes himself.

When he feels himself softening, Kyouya shifts to the side and lies beside Tamaki. Neither of them speaks, instead communicating mutual satisfaction and satiation through touches. Kyouya's fingertips brush over the dried come on Tamaki's torso and he suggests they bathe together.

After cleaning themselves, they move to the hot tub, draped on opposite sides. As Kyouya stretches luxuriously, Tamaki reaches down for his foot, bringing it out of the water to his mouth to bite down gently on a toe.

"Do people really like that?" Kyouya asks curiously.

"Some do," Tamaki says with a grin.

Kyouya finds his foot under the water but instead of bringing it to his mouth, he rubs his thumb along the arch of the sole. As he continues massaging, Tamaki melts into a deeper slouch. "Ah," Tamaki sighs, "that's magnificent."

"You're magnificent," Kyouya hears himself rejoin. He lets Tamaki's foot slip free with a soft splash as Tamaki tips himself forward to glide over to Kyouya's side. Tamaki kisses him, not deep but tenderly and for as long as breath allows, Kyouya stroking his throat with the same thumb he'd used on Tamaki's foot, Tamaki's purr thrumming against and with each caress.

Kyouya strokes and plays with Tamaki's hair as Tamaki settles against him. They soak in the easy heat and bliss, soothing, relaxing. "How long have you been in love with me?" Tamaki asks without lifting his head from Kyouya's shoulder.

"I don't know," Kyouya says truthfully, winding and unwinding a damp strand around his finger, letting his fingers slide further up, deeper in. "Longer than I've consciously been aware of. I know that when I figured it out a couple of months ago, it had been going on for some time."

"Ouran, do you think?"

"Mmm," Kyouya agrees, "most likely." Then, "You?"

"Yes." Tamaki smiles.

Kyouya hears memories in his voice but doesn't delve. Instead, he asks, "So how will this work at that club of yours?"

"It's not my club," Tamaki says. "But how will what work?"

"I saw marks of what I assume are ownership amongst several of the patrons. So are you mine, or am I yours? That is to say," Kyouya lays it out, "who marks whom?"

He smiles as Tamaki takes a moment to digest the notion of returning to the club at all, and then adds returning with Kyouya to that notion. Then Tamaki smiles too: "We're each other's, I think." He keeps smiling, something else lighting the smile newly, turning it into such an intriguing smile that Kyouya feels compelled to ask after it. "I was just thinking what you would look like in a collar," Tamaki tells him.

"And how would I look?"

"Good," Tamaki says. "Very, very good."

Kyouya tilts his head contemplatively. "So would you."

They smile at each other awhile more, and then Tamaki says, "Can I fuck you now?"

"Certainly," Kyouya replies, and starts to rise from the tub.

"No," Tamaki's hand on his arm stops him, "I mean here."

"But this is a clean space."

"I know." Tamaki grins up. "Do you object to a little filth?"

Kyouya sinks back into the water. "I find I rather love your filth," he says, meeting Tamaki's challenging grin with one of his own. "I've always loved your blush," he adds, touching Tamaki's face as it colors.

Tamaki kisses him in wordless response. When their mouths part, Tamaki moves his to Kyouya's ear and murmurs, "Turn around now."

Kyouya complies. Tamaki nudges his legs farther apart to kneel between them. He starts fingering Kyouya below the waterline, and it's a little more frictive than it had been in the club, but the memory of that experience helps Kyouya relax, as does the water itself. Then Tamaki enters him, Tamaki is inside him, and Kyouya groans his pleasured approval. As Tamaki moves inside him, he reaches around to stroke Kyouya off underwater. Kyouya pushes back for more of Tamaki's cock, forward for more of his hand, enslaved to the rhythms of pleasure. Tamaki sits back, bringing Kyouya with him, one hand moving from Kyouya's chest to his hip to help Kyouya find the new rhythm, the hand on Kyouya's cock continuing to urge him towards orgasm. When Tamaki's hand leaves his hip, it is to settle not on Kyouya's chest again but on his neck, fingers drifting up from the nape towards the crown, curling into a gentle fist full of hair, tugging back; and Kyouya arches even more as he comes.

He lets Tamaki tip him forward again, drapes over the side of the hot tub as Tamaki thrusts into him. Kyouya pushes back for Tamaki despite the achievement of his own satisfaction, pushes back for Tamaki's.

After Tamaki comes, he leans forward to rest against Kyouya. Then he kisses the back of his neck before slipping out.

"You'll stay the night," Kyouya says as he shifts to face Tamaki.

"It would be the fulfillment of my fondest hope," Tamaki smiles, and Kyouya detects no note of hyperbole.

As they towel off, Kyouya glances over at Tamaki. "How did you know to do that?" When Tamaki looks up, Kyouya mock-pulls his own hair.

"I took a chance," Tamaki says. "I remembered the way your hands were in my hair when I was sucking you off at the club. Often people do the things they want done to themselves, even if they aren't aware of it. Especially if they aren't."

Kyouya nods thoughtfully. As they walk back to the bedroom, Kyouya mulls it over. Tamaki is so selfless in bed, Kyouya hasn't yet learned his hidden triggers. So open, Kyouya isn't sure he has anything hidden away. He glances at Tamaki, who, sensing the gaze, turns to smile softly at him. Kyouya doesn't know how aware of himself Tamaki is, and he doesn't know if he can love the way Tamaki does; he isn't sure anyone can. But as they smile at each other, Kyouya makes a silent vow to love Tamaki unreservedly.


End file.
